However, “Yes?” said she, encouragingly;
“and what do you intend doing afterward?—­”

“I—­I shall probably live abroad,”
said Billy. “Cheaper, you know.”

[Illustration: “Miss Hugonin pouted.
’You needn’t be such a grandfather,’
she suggested, helpfully”]

And here (he thought) was an excellent, an undreamed-of
opportunity to inform her of his engagement.
He had much better tell her now and have done.
Mr. Woods opened his mouth and looked at Margaret,
and closed it. Again she was pouting in a fashion
that distracted one’s mind.

“That would be most unattractive,” said
Miss Hugonin, calmly. “You’re very
stupid, Billy, to think of living abroad. Billy,
I think you’re almost as stupid as I am.
I’ve been very stupid, Billy. I thought
I liked Mr. Kennaston. I don’t, Billy—­not
that way. I’ve just told him so. I’m
not—­I’m not engaged to anybody now,
Billy. But wasn’t it stupid of me to make
such a mistake, Billy?”

That was a very interesting mosaic there in the summer-house.

“I don’t understand,” said Mr. Woods.
His voice shook, and his hands lifted a little toward
her and trembled.

Poor Billy dared not understand. Her eyes downcast,
her foot tapping the floor gently, Margaret was all
one blush. She, too, was trembling a little,
and she was a little afraid and quite unutterably happy;
and outwardly she was very much the tiny lady of Oberon’s
court, very much the coquette quintessentialised.

It is pitiable that our proud Margaret should come
to such a pass. Ah, the men that you have flouted
and scorned and bedeviled and mocked at, Margaret—­could
they see you now, I think the basest of them could
not but pity and worship you. This man is bound
in honour to another woman; yet a little, and his
lips will open—­very dry, parched lips they
are now—­and he will tell you, and your pride
will drive you mad, and your heart come near to breaking.

“Don’t you understand—­oh, you
silly Billy!” She was peeping at him meltingly
from under her lashes.

He stared hungrily at the pink, startled face that
lifted toward his. Ah, no, no, it could not be
possible, this thing he had imagined for a moment.
He had misunderstood.

And now just for a little (thought poor Billy) let
my eyes drink in those dear felicities of colour and
curve, and meet just for a little the splendour of
those eyes that have the April in them, and rest just
for a little upon that sanguine, close-grained, petulant
mouth; and then I will tell her, and then I think
that I must die.

“Peggy——­” he began,
in a flattish voice.

“They have evidently gone,” said the voice
of Mr. Kennaston; “yes, those beautiful, happy
young people have foolishly deserted the very prettiest
spot in the gardens. Let us sit here, Kathleen.”